All This Time I Was Finding Myself
by one.twilight.sun
Summary: He's lived a very long life and in that time, he's never forgotten her - though he's never known her name. Captain Swan Fic. Slight AU.
1. so wake me up when it's all over

**Author's Note: Inspired yet again by CS and writing away. It's not as fluffy as my last one, but it's a short story that struck me fancy and hasn't let go of me yet. I'm basically done writing it (only three or four chapters) and will post every other day. Feel free to let me know what you think of it!**

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_i. so wake me up when it's all over_

She lived and died without Killian ever knowing her name.

He was twelve years old when he first laid eyes on the vicar's daughter. His father, the blacksmith, had decided it was time that his youngest boy started his apprenticeship and brought Killian from the farmstead to work in the blazing furnace of his workshop. Killian had been excited to be let out of the country and eager to make his father proud. This, however, had been dampened slightly when he was informed that his duties would mainly consist of fetching water for the barrels that were used to cool the newly formed metal works.

It was on one of these trips to the well that brought him into proximity with the blonde girl. She'd clearly just finished filling her own bucket when she'd turn and nearly knocked into him, the water lapping dangerously close to the lip of the bucket. She hadn't said anything, just gave him an apologetic smile, before slipping past him and disappearing around the corner of the nearest building.

What he remembers first noticing about her was her slightly crooked smile. The tinge of sadness to the tilt of her lips and the accompanying distant look in her green eyes had been so out of place for one as young as she.

What gets lost in his memory, especially these days, is the slight stutter in his chest at the sight of her delicately formed features and serious gaze. He didn't know what it was then, and he sure as hell doesn't think to put a name to it now, but it'd created a big enough impression on the young lad that he'd walked back to his father's workshop in a daze, having totally forgotten to fill up his own water bucket.

The next time he sees her, it's an altogether different sight that greets him from the demure and shy girl who'd been embarrassed about almost splashing him with water.

He's on his way home to his father's place that he keeps in town when he hears a high-pitched yell that sounds like a girl and he's running in the direction of the sound before he even fully registers that it was a sound made in anger and not in pain. As he slides into an empty space between buildings, the tableau before him is not what he'd expected. There's a small boy cowering near the wall, skinny arms thrown over his head, clearly having just been saved a beating by a short avenging angel whose currently grappling with an older boy, of a more stouter build than her but having to put up a fight to keep the girl's small hands away from his face.

Not a little shocked by the sight, Killian stands frozen until he sees the bigger boy finally get a hold of the girl's pinned up hair and pulls roughly, the girl's teeth gritting in pain as she thrashes her head about, unsuccessful in getting him to loosen his grip. Suddenly, Killian finds himself grabbing onto the offending arm and twisting it with savagery, the surprise and the pain making the boy cry out and let go.

The girl stumbles forward, getting a bearing of her feet quickly, and running to the shivering child against the wall. Killian catches the edge of a fist to his jaw while he's distracted and turns back to meet the angry gaze of the bully. He's not one to normally enjoy violence, but he finds himself meeting the taller boy's glare with an unpleasant grin that brings a touch of fear into the other boy's eyes. Killian steps forward, swinging his own arm back to meet the boy's face, but only gets him in the shoulder as the boy turns to run back up the alley, yelling in pain.

With the rather abrupt ending to the fight, Killian is momentarily disoriented until he hears the sniffling next to him and the soft murmurs of the blonde girl as she comforts the young lad. Turning, he finds them both huddled together, giving him scared looks. He doesn't like the feeling that washes over him with that and so crouches down so he's at their level. Both their shoulders relax a bit, the girl's arm hugs the boy to her.

"It's okay," he whispers, the moment seeming to call for soft tones.

A long look passes between Killian and the girl with the green eyes before she gives an imperceptible nod and shy smile, more of a slight tug of her mouth. He can't help the smile that comes to his own face and he feels a shakiness in the center of his chest that isn't unpleasant, but is a little uncomfortable.

Holding out a hand, she takes it, and he helps her up, bringing the younger boy up with her. "Let me walk you home," he says, emulating the gents that sometimes pass by his father's smithy.

He doesn't realize that he's still holding her hand until she gives a little tug to free her own. He lets go rapidly, feeling a flush rise up in his cheeks. He isn't too sure what he's doing here, but he just knows that he wants to be near her a little bit longer.

When she doesn't say anything, he starts to feel awkward and so he clears his throat as he turns away. "I'll just be g—"

"My father's the vicar," she interrupts, her voice as light as the ethereal color of her hair. "We live just past the square. If that isn't too far for you to walk." Her voice trails off uncertainly when he doesn't say anything.

He rubs one hand through his hair. It's gotten a bit clammy at the thought of being in her presence a little longer. He smiles at her. "It isn't."

It's the last time he sees her before the ogres come. Because Killian and his father are trading goods at an outlying village that day, they are the only survivors.


	2. when I'm wiser and I'm older

_ii. when I'm wiser and I'm older_

He can't seem to stop himself from looking at her. There's something familiar about this barmaid though he swears he's never seen her before. Sure, he's seen a lot of blonde lasses in his time, but for some reason, she stands out in his mind. Maybe it's the way she seems utterly present, giving her attention to whoever is before her, a remarkable feat considering the din of this full tavern. (It doesn't hurt that her hair is the color of buttercups under the sun, stray curls falling from the topknot on her head.)

Killian feels a little out of place in his navy uniform, having been dragged here by the rest of his brother's crew, eager to get some sort of secret data about their lofty captain. He realizes that as Liam's lieutenant he balances even more on that thin line dividing the lower ranks from command. He's drunk sparingly from the tankard of ale that the boys have put before him, giving some of the sailors a hard eye when he sees them calling for another drink. He's got the feeling that they're about to ship out, either on the morrow or soon after, and he needs them in good form.

The bright laughter lights up part of his mind and his blue gaze strays back to her. She's closer now, at the table just behind his, hands steadying the tray on her hip as she greets the new customer just sat down. Her grin is wide and all teeth, none of that simpering and polite smiles that he' so used to from the girls seeking to land an officer husband.

Because he's watching the girl so closely, he doesn't miss the man's hand that swings out at her bottom as she walks away from the table. He's up and out of his chair before he can think and striding towards the man, his blood boiling at the dishonor done to her. But before he's even taken two steps, the girl has swung back around and delivered a swift blow with the backside of her tray, sending the cad's head snapping back and a shocked silence around the scene.

"_No one _touches me," she says in a voice that is low yet carries throughout the tavern, serious gaze on the stunned man. "At least, not without _my _permission," she adds, her face slipping into an easy grin, tone turning mischievous.

At first, the fellow doesn't seem to know what to do with that and then he gives a loud bark of laughter, to which everyone else in the tavern follows suit, the tension in the air melting away and returning back to jovial once more.

"Absolutely, miss," the man states in good humor, hands held up in the universal sign of defeat. She gives him a charming wink and turns to head back to the kitchen.

But not before her gaze meets Killian's who's still standing between his table and the current one she is at, amazed at the way she had handled the man and the whole tavern. A shock of _recognition _runs through him and he feels like she knows it, too, as her mouth drops open and she seems to freeze. He starts to move toward her, a half remembered face of a young blonde girl standing fiercely over a small boy forming in his mind's eye, and a feeling of incredulity, an impossibility riding in his veins.

His brother steps in his path, breaking the moment between them. "Killian," his brother states, grabbing his attention.

Killian meets Liam's eyes before swinging back to over his shoulder, but the girl is gone, and he feels a tightening in the middle of his chest.

"Killian," Liam repeats, and the younger brother's gaze reluctantly moves back to his brother's impatient eyes. "I have orders from the King. We are shipping out tomorrow. Get these men together and have them ready to go at first light."

With a half-formed plan to come back after this mission, he asks his brother, "Where are we going?"

Liam's face forms a secret smile. "I'm under orders not to tell anyone until we're there."


	3. all this time I was finding myself

**AN: Thank you for the follows, faves and reviews! I wouldn't mind more feedback :)**

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_iii . all this time I was finding myself_

He finds that he likes the anonymity that Agrabah lends to him and his men. The city is a large seaport, welcoming ships and caravans from all kingdoms across the world. He can conduct any manner of business with his needed contacts with a degree of surety that it will go unnoticed. As a pirate with a mission of revenge, he appreciates the lucrativeness that comes in dealing on the black market of magic and secrets.

He's in a less than dark mood than normal, having just found out from his contact that there was a possible lead to the Crocodile's dagger. There's apparently a girl that the demon had had in his service for some time and had had some sort of relationship with. Killian's mouth curls into a sneer at the thought, scaring away a seller about to offer him some sort of ware. The girl had been recently thrown out of the Crocodile's castle, but could still have useful information for him if he could get to her.

Caught up in his thoughts, he almost doesn't notice the slight movement in his right jacket pocket. Heavy though his coat may be, Killian's developed a keen awareness to other people's presence and motions around him, a sense that's helped him in more than one fight.

His right hand drops and grabs the wrist of the hand that's exiting his pocket, having found the small bag of coins that Killian keeps there for the fun of it (no pirate worthy to the name would keep significant amounts of money where any light-fingered cretin could get to). The owner of the hand, after a heartbeat's time, starts struggling against his grip in earnest.

Before the child (judging from the thinness of the wrist) decides to bite him, Captain Hook steps into a nearby alley with the urchin who dared to steal from him and swings around, his left hand up. The boy cries out as Killian pulls him against his chest, arm pinning the boy's shoulders there, the gleam of his hook unmistakable in the sunlight. Despite the warm weather, the child is covered by a heavy black hood that obscures his features.

"That's not polite, lad. One would think you've been taught better than that. But I suppose an orphan such as yourself, doesn't really have anyone to teach you, aye?" His hand moves up from the boy's wrist towards his hood, intent on seeing just who it is that thought to get away with taking what was his.

This movement seems to shake the boy out of his fear and he bucks against the arm across his shoulders, despite the hook that could cut him at any moment. Killian angles the hook away, because despite the fact that he's a pirate and the bloodiest-minded one out there, he still has his own personal code of honor to stick to, and he draws the line at killing children. The boy is quick to take advantage of the loosened grip and twists out of Killian's hold.

However, before he can make a clean break, Killian's eye catches on the long tendril of blonde hair that falls out of the hood. Something clenches deep in the recesses of his long-blackened heart and his hand tightens on her (for the "boy" is actually a lass and not a "child" now that he's seen that shining piece of hair) arm before she can slip fully away. He's got his hook under the edge of her hood and slipping it back, ignoring the rapid intakes of breath coming from inside of it and the way she suddenly stills and just _lets _him.

That suspicion that had formed at the back of his mind at the sight of her hair hits him full in the face and he almost takes a step back, but doesn't because he's not letting her go just yet. It's _her_. But it's _impossible_. The blonde lass that he'd taken a fancy to in that long-gone tavern in a kingdom he swears he'll never set ashore again except to plunder the king's gold and trade in the illegal market, is standing here before him.

It's been almost three hundred years and yet he can recall this face—that piece of coal inside his chest hurts at the fact that _she _is a little more clear than his Milah—it's heart shape, the bright green eyes, the sharp but sweet smile. He remembers that gleam of gold that frames her features. He doesn't understand _why_, but her face is one that he hasn't forgotten. Maybe it's because she was the last person he'd felt a connection with before he'd lost his brother to Neverland. Maybe it's because she is unquestionably beautiful. But he doesn't forget her, no matter what the reason. But it can't be the same woman. (He'd never even learned her name.)

While he's taken stock of her, she has remained still, as if she's remembering, too, which would be inconceivable. As his gaze meets her rather frank one, he sees tears start to gather, making her eyes more blue than green. Her face softens into her tears and she opens her mouth to plead with him. "Please, sir. I'm ever so sorry. If you could just let me go—I've got a young boy at home."

Despite himself, his hand does loosen a bit.

She moves a step closer, so that the tension in her arm is lessened. "It's really my first time ever trying something like this, sir, but I think I've learned my lesson. I just didn't want to leave my boy to starve, you hear? It's really all been for him."

She's looking up into his eyes and he's having a bit of a hard time breathing, which is disconcerting. He blinks down into her face, wondering what is happening with him and finds himself letting her arm go and stepping back. He clears his throat to cover up his loss of composure and growls at her. "Go on then. Keep the purse. But watch who you decide to nick next time, aye lass?"

Her face breaks into a wide, grateful grin, one that shows mostly teeth and again he's struck by how _familiar_ she is to him. "Yes, sir. I'll be sure to do that."

She's quick to turn around, making her way out of the alley. He watches her go, uneasy with himself at the sense of guilt he feels over this attraction for her and the way she seems to fit something within him. Just before she hits the edge of the crowd, she turns back a little, enough for him to see her face under the hood she'd pulled up. That grateful grin of hers has melted into something more. Something _naughty. _He's arrested by that look because she's dropped the innocent act.

A moment later it becomes more clear as she pulls out a hand from within her cloak, a heavier purse clinking within her grasp. His own hand moves underneath his jacket, to the pocket where he keeps most of his money, knowing already what he'll find. _Nothing_. With a saucy wink, she slips into the marketplace.

He lets her go. And smiles just because for the first time in a while.


	4. and I didn't know I was lost

_iv. and I didn't know I was lost_

It's bloody hot where he's laying, but he endures. The Snow White contingent are due at any moment and he isn't going to make a farce out of it before the deception even starts.

He hears their voices approaching and prepares to act the gentle and mild-mannered blacksmith he's been masquerading as. The shock in their voices at the decimation of the village nudges at a part of him, the one that he's always assigned as "Killian Jones." He ignores it in favor of the overlying purpose of getting to Storybrooke and getting to the Dark One. He's gotten used to stamping down on the man he'd been before Rumpelstiltskin.

It doesn't take one of the women long to find him. Her voice sets something vibrating at the back of his mind and he's even more on alert than he was. As the dead body is pushed off of him, he blinks in the sudden light. He recognizes Snow White from the posters that had surrounded her kingdom when she'd ruled long ago. His eyes cut across the other faces and lands on the one directly above him.

He's momentarily startled at the face he sees. _Her_.

He looks back at Snow to cover his shock. The face that he's come across far too many times now for it to be a coincidence belongs to the woman who has just found him. Again. He can see her blonde hair shining in the sunlight, just as its done each time she's revealed herself. He doesn't understand what this is. It's clear _she _doesn't recognize him.

He knows that there are some worlds that believe in the ability to be born again, but as far as he knows, those that belong to the world of the Enchanted Forest and its surrounding kingdoms don't have that belief.

He can't help but feel that the universe is trying to tell him something.

Which he ignores because the universe hasn't ever told him anything good, instead relying on his own instincts and interests.

As the four help him "get through his trauma," he can't help the sensation that hits his chest each time he looks at her. Emma. He finally has a name to give her.

Of course, given his history with Emma or her former selves, he should've known that she'd see through him. Finding himself tied to a tree, ogres on their way to feast, and Emma turning her back on him, he finally admits what he should've done long ago, maybe sine the first time he could remember seeing her.

She'd bested him. And yet, as he watches her interaction with the other women and the ways she doesn't back down an inch, it didn't feel like he'd lost at all, but that maybe he could come out ahead, forging his path with her. She's a reminder of his former self, of someone who'd really thought of the bigger and brighter picture.

Maybe he'll find himself again. With Emma Swan.

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**Author's Note: I kind of died out in the middle of writing this so I apologize for the open-endedness. I'm just personally happy that I finished this little short story. If you're up to it, I'd love to hear what you thought about it. **


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